


Love's Last Kiss

by waitinginperdition



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Dark Thor (Marvel), Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, In the classical sense, M/M, Murder-Suicide, Rape, Revenge, Tragedy, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 06:05:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18026138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waitinginperdition/pseuds/waitinginperdition
Summary: Thor is a mean drunk. Loki tries to make him jealous at a public function and it doesn't go anything like how he'd planned.





	Love's Last Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Please heed the tags and warnings. This is very dark. There are extremely graphic depictions of rape. Do not proceed unless you know what you're getting into. This festered in my brain for well over a year and I just had to get it OUT.

Loki put the finishing touches on his hair, tucking the last wayward strand behind his ear, and stepped back from the mirror to take himself in. He’d had the tailors make him something in the style of the desert people of Vanaheim in honor of their delegation and he felt shockingly exposed; the billowy fabric was partially transparent and he could see the outline of nearly his entire body through his clothing, not to mention the strip of exposed skin down the middle of his chest. “Shockingly exposed” was what he was going for tonight, though.

He wondered what Thor would be wearing. He wondered if Thor would notice what Loki was wearing. Wondered if it might catch Thor’s eye. Or, barring that, catch someone else’s eye. Thor would be sure to notice _that_.

Loki didn’t know what was possessing him to do this tonight specifically. Maybe it was the way Thor had been treating him for the past few months, simultaneously possessive and dismissive. The _looks_ he turned upon Loki, by turns hot and contemptuous. It all filled Loki with a restless desire to do something to upset the status quo and find out which way the chips would fall. 

Loki hoped he hadn’t been misreading the situation entirely. He’d desired his brother in all the ways he shouldn’t for as long as he could remember. Even the hint that Thor might reciprocate his hunger was enough to drive him to desperation. He was so tired of hungering and never being able to take his fill. And even if he was wrong, he’d take _someone_ to his bed this night. Perhaps it might fill the ache inside of him.

For the thousandth time, Loki imagined what Thor’s hands might feel like on his bare skin, and he shuddered.

Or perhaps not.

 

Loki floated through the feast and subsequent dancing on a cloud of alcohol and laughter. His attire attracted exactly the attention he wanted it to, and he flaunted it, flirting with anyone who’d flirt back. He gathered a small throng of admirers over the course of the evening. It was fun, and it was satisfying; Loki did so love to be loved, and these people were providing at least the facsimile of it if not the thing itself.

He kept one eye out for Thor the entire time. Thor was wearing his sleeveless dress armor, a fact that Loki noted with no small degree of appreciation. A good chunk of the female population shared in his appreciation, it seemed. Thor was constantly at the center of a fawning group of women. Loki also noted that Thor paid almost no attention to them whatsoever, and that he spent most of his time staring at Loki and then flicking his eyes away when Loki looked back.

As the evening wore on, Thor’s cheeks grew more flushed, his eyes glassier. Loki hadn’t seen him without a drink in his hand the entire time. Loki’s group had grown larger by the same measure that Thor’s had grown smaller; it was no wonder with how angry Thor looked, the set of his shoulders and his face both. He was sure to be no fit company. Loki was having a hard time concentrating on his own admirers. He’d had enough alcohol to be pleasantly drunk himself, and he was so pleased that he was getting under Thor’s skin. He wanted to do nothing but go rub it in a little.

Loki had just finished telling an amusing anecdote. The hour was late. He had one arm around a maiden, her slim arm hugging his waist, and he was struck by an idea. He waited until Thor was watching, and then tugged her a bit closer and whispered something in her ear that made her blush and laugh, and then he nodded his head towards a young man who’d been staring adoringly at him all night. When the girl nodded a frantic yes, Loki smiled and beckoned the young man over with a finger. He came, and Loki took hold of his tunic and pulled him closer, and whispered in his ear too. The man’s eyes widened and he smiled. One of his hands came up to touch the bare skin of Loki’s chest and slip the tips of his fingers under Loki’s tunic.

“Pardon me.” Thor had materialized at Loki’s side, and though his words were polite his tone was not. Smiles died all around. “I have need of my brother.”

Loki suppressed a smile of his own.

“Excuse me,” he said to his pair of would-be lovers. “I fear I’m being kidnapped.” He kissed the maiden’s knuckles and brought his hand up to caress the man’s cheek in farewell. He nearly laughed in glee when Thor grabbed his wrist and yanked his arm down before he could complete the motion.

Thor’s grip on his arm was tight as he escorted him forcefully from the hall.

“Why so serious, brother?” Loki said, foolishly cheerful.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Thor growled. He shook Loki’s arm.

“Having a bit of fun,” Loki said. “Though you don’t seem to be having any fun whatsoever. What’s wrong? Lost your sense of humor somewhere in the punch bowl?”

“I don’t see anything funny about a Prince of Asgard carrying on like some common whore.”

Loki’s heart did a funny little hiccup in his chest. Thor sounded legitimately angry, and he was holding Loki so tightly he feared he’d have a bruise.

“Nonsense. If I were a whore I’d be getting paid.”

“A slut, then.”

Thor ripped open the door to Loki’s chambers and threw him inside so forcefully that Loki stumbled, and would have fallen except that he managed to catch himself on the edge of the table. Thor had always had a temper, but this was starting to feel less like a game and more like something far more serious. Loki felt the first twinge of actual trepidation.

He thought that Thor might just go, but instead Thor kicked the door shut behind him and advanced into the room.

“I think you should leave,” Loki said, drawing himself up. “You’re drunk.”

“So are you,” Thor said. “Hasn’t stopped you from trying to open your legs for half the court.”

“Get out.”

“No.”

Thor grabbed for Loki’s wrist and Loki tore away from his grasp. He’d never seen such an ugly look on his brother’s face before, and it made him sick to his stomach. When he’d thought of trying to possibly make Thor jealous, he’d never imagined that this was the beast he would awaken.

Thor grabbed for his wrist again and they ended up wrestling and shoving each other until Thor pinned Loki against the table, half bent backwards, one huge strong hand holding both of Loki’s hands together uselessly behind his back. They were both breathing heavily. Loki tried to knee Thor in the groin, but all he succeeded in doing was letting Thor push further between his legs. His breath smelled like mead.

“What is your _problem_?” Loki hissed, struggling fruitlessly.

“You’re my problem,” Thor growled. He twisted Loki’s arms up further behind his back and made Loki wince. “You make yourself my problem. Prancing around half dressed. Practically fucking people in public. Dishonoring yourself. Dishonoring your family.”

“How dare you?” Loki said, voice shaking. “You’ve bedded half the court.”

“You did it to torment me,” Thor said. “I know you. I know your ways.”

“So what if I did?” Loki said, baring his teeth. Trepidation was starting to turn into actual fear. Thor wasn’t budging an inch, and the ugly look on his face had only gotten uglier. “Go to bed. You get mean when you’ve had too much to drink.”

“Maybe I’ve had exactly the right amount of drink,” Thor snarled. “The right amount to put a slut like you in your place.”

“What—”

But, horrifyingly, Thor was shoving Loki all the way back onto the table, and began tearing at his clothing. Loki tried to fling himself sideways, but Thor caught him with one hand, and slammed Mjolnir onto his chest with the other.

“Thor, what are you doing?” Loki hated how high his voice had gone, how terrified. He’d dreamed for so long of Thor desiring him, Thor taking him, but not like this. Never like this. Thor was ripping Loki’s breeches now, the thin fabric no match for his strength. Desperately, Loki materialized a knife in his hand and tried to stab Thor in the side. Thor knocked his hand away dismissively. He grabbed Loki’s right hand and twisted him roughly so that both of his hands were next to his face over his left shoulder, then moved Mjolnir to pin his hands to the table.

“There,” Thor grunted.

Loki began to cry.

“Not like this,” he said, over and over. He pressed his cheek into the table and closed his eyes; he didn’t want to see Thor’s face. Didn’t want to see what was happening. Thor lifted Loki’s right leg up in the air and spit on his hole and Loki sobbed.

When Thor shoved inside of him it was like the world ended. Blinding white-hot pain shot through his whole body. It felt like he’d been skewered with an iron from a forge. He was sure he’d die of it.

“Not like this,” he heard himself babbling, moaning, crying. A litany. A prayer. No gods were listening.

“Whore. Witch. You cast some spell on me to make me hunger, then you dance out of my reach to torment me. No longer.”

“No spell,” Loki tried to say, but he couldn’t. All he could do was weep.

Thor rutted into him unforgivingly. He pulled out at the end to spend all over Loki’s trembling belly and chest and thighs. His face blank, Thor fastened his breeches and then left, pausing at the door to summon Mjolnir to his hand before slamming it behind him. Loki curled into himself on top of the table in a filthy puddle of tears, snot, semen, blood, and the stink of shit, and lost himself.

 

Life, somehow, went on. If not for Loki’s own memory of the night he would never even know it had happened. It didn’t seem right. It seemed like there should be some outward indication of the devastation that had occurred.

He didn’t know what he expected Thor to do afterwards, his mind had no frame of reference for it, but one thing he didn’t expect was Thor to be kind to him. And so he was shocked when Thor was. Decorum forced them together time and time again. The first time he had to speak to Thor publicly after the incident he thought he might vomit, but Thor smiled at him with genuine warmth and behaved so solicitously that for a few crazed minutes Loki wondered if he’d perhaps hallucinated the entire thing, if maybe Amora had finally managed to get one over on him with a mind altering enchantment. But no. No. His core still ached with pain both physical and not, far too real to be imagined.

For two weeks Loki did the bare minimum his duties required of him and spent the rest of his time locked in his room. For two weeks Thor was the sweetest he’d been in decades, if not longer. Maybe he was trying to make it up to Loki, as if anything would be able to make up for what he’d done. Despicably, though, Loki found himself craving that sweetness. He’d been in love with Thor for so long that Thor’s attentions now felt like rain after a drought. Maybe Thor felt guilty. Maybe the incident had changed him, made him realize he didn’t want to hurt Loki after all. Maybe Loki had deserved to be hurt after the way he’d made Thor feel.

Tentatively, Loki began to try to uncurl.

Two weeks to the day and Fandral cheerfully invited Loki to stay in the great hall and have some mead with them after dinner had been cleared. Loki darted a look at Thor, who was laughing at something Sif had just said, and agreed.

They all had too much to drink.

Loki supposed he should have seen it coming. Thor had been thoroughly drunk last time, too. He’d always been an unkind drunk. Alcohol brought out his worst tendencies: arrogance, bravado, temper. And, apparently, whatever this hideous thing was that had taken hold of his heart regarding Loki.

The mead had only made Loki more relaxed, loosened his tongue a bit, brought a touch of a smile to his lips. He and Fandral had been joking around at Thor’s expense, poking fun at a bit of a social gaffe he’d made the other day with one of the Vanaheim diplomats. Loki hadn’t noticed the lowering of Thor’s brow or the way he was clutching his tankard until it was too late.

Loki had excused himself as quickly as possible and gone back to his chambers. His heart was pounding far too hard for his liking. The sound of his door opening sent him whirling around, his pulse spiking; he’d forgotten to bar it.

“Thor, please,” he said. He felt his face twist. “I don’t understand.”

Thor had a hand in Loki's hair before he could duck out of the way, and he yanked his head to the side harshly.

“I tried to be a good brother,” Thor said. “But you don’t deserve that, do you? Ensnaring me with your magic and then mocking me to my friends’ faces?”

Loki was trying to tug Thor’s hands free of his hair and failing.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “There’s no spell, I swear—”

“Be quiet,” Thor said, tightening his grip.

“Please,” Loki said. Oh, how he hated the words coming out of his own mouth. “Please, brother. You can be gentle. I won’t—I’ll do as you say—”

 _Just let me love you,_ he thought desperately. _That’s all I want._

Thor shoved Loki down to his knees and began unbuckling his belt.

“I told you to be quiet,” he said. “I’ll just have to still your poisonous tongue myself.”

His hands were back in Loki’s hair before Loki could even catch his breath, and then Thor shoved his cock into Loki’s mouth.

He wasn’t gentle, not at all. He fucked into Loki’s mouth ruthlessly, thrusting into the back of his throat until Loki gagged and choked, tears running down his face. Loki tried to pull back and Thor pulled him forwards instead, burying his cock all the way to the hilt until Loki’s nose was smashed into his pubic hair, bullying the head of his cock past the back of Loki’s throat and then further down, and Loki couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe. He started slapping at Thor’s sides and writhing, muffled sounds escaping his chest. Thor finally let him go and withdrew himself with an obscenely wet pop, and Loki fell back, gasping.

Thor reached for him again and Loki clamped his mouth shut, but Thor forced it open with his fingers. Gods, he was too strong. His cock was back in Loki’s mouth, huge and hard. Loki found himself going limp, letting Thor use him; his mind went elsewhere. He didn’t know how else to deal with what was going on.

“You want this, don’t you,” Thor grunted. “You crave this.”

He spent into Loki’s throat, holding him there as he pumped wave after wave of bitter seed into him until Loki was gagging and flailing again, until it came up his throat and bubbled out of his nose and the tears streamed down his face.

“Go wash your face,” Thor said dispassionately. The sound of the door slamming when he left felt like a crack of thunder.

 

And so it went. Thor got drunk, Thor forced himself into Loki's room and then Loki's body; Loki pleaded for mercy; Thor showed none.

Loki found himself breaking apart slowly, bit by bit, pieces of him eroding away until he didn't even know what was left of him anymore. Didn't know what was left of Thor, or what had happened to the brother he'd adored—the one who'd picked him up from the ground when he'd fallen as a child, who'd shared his bed during thunderstorms, who'd ridden the wind with Loki tucked under his arm, who'd defended his honor to strangers. 

That Thor didn't exist anymore. Loki didn't know who had killed him. He mourned the loss of that Thor as much as he mourned anything about what Thor had done to him.

He himself had never been good to begin with. There was no great loss there.

The last time Thor forced himself upon Loki, he left him dazed on the floor of the bath, a bruise in the shape of a handprint darkening rapidly on his throat. Loki worked madly to swallow, but couldn't force his abused muscles to obey; spit and come dribbled out of the corner of his mouth to puddle on the floor under his neck. He rolled over to the side and more come gushed out from between his legs, tinged pink with blood from Thor's rough entry. Loki closed his eyes and breathed slowly through his nose and a calm settled over him. 

He'd been hoping beyond hope for months that this had been some fit of madness. Something Thor would exorcise. Every time that Thor smiled at him on good days, his ridiculous heart would swell, and he'd tell himself that this time it was different. That this time it wouldn't happen again.

But Thor had come near to choking him to death tonight, and in that surreal space between life and death Loki had had a vision of him, a golem of pulsing corruption wearing his brother's face, and he had realized. This would never be exorcised. This was the same incestuous desire that Loki had for Thor, only it didn't fit Thor's idea of himself and he would never forgive himself for it, so he had turned it around, tried to lay the blame elsewhere; it had poisoned him from the inside out and nothing was left but rot. 

Loki coughed weakly into the bath tiles, then staggered to his feet and went to go clean himself.

 

A few weeks passed before Loki acted. It was so easy to poison Thor's drink. By the time he was a few cups in, his senses were far too dulled to notice when Loki tipped a few drops of sleeping draught into his mead. Loki himself had been turning his mead into water all night; he wanted a clear head.

When Thor started to look sleepy, Loki announced he was taking his brother home. He just managed to push Thor into his bed before he passed out.

While Thor slept, Loki prepared.

Thor came awake with a start and tried to sit up, and instead struggled when he found his wrists were tied tightly to the bed. Loki had been staring at himself in the mirror, the bed behind him, and he could see Thor's throat working, but no sound emerged.

“I took your voice,” Loki said calmly. He turned around in his seat at Thor's dressing table and crossed his legs. He'd put on a short silk robe for the occasion, and other than Thor's harsh breathing the smooth slide of fabric on Loki's legs was the only sound in the room.

“You've been taking mine for so long, I thought it only fitting,” Loki continued. “And I've had quite enough of listening to what you have to say.”

He rose and paced over to the bed, gazing down at his brother. He'd stripped Thor naked before binding him. Even after everything, he still found Thor beautiful to look upon. Thor had been beautiful inside too, once. Loki felt a pang of sadness that he'd been the one responsible for Thor's downfall. For taking that goodness out of the world.

Thor looked back up at him. He looked nervous.

“Are you scared, brother?” Loki asked softly. He stroked Thor's cheek with two delicate fingers, and Thor twisted his head away. “Scared that I might hurt you as you've hurt me? Don't worry. I couldn't if I tried. You see—”

Loki sat on the edge of the bed. He took Thor's face in his hand, forced it around until Thor was looking at him. For the first time since that disastrous night, Loki felt in control. 

“I'm only going to tell you this once, so listen very carefully,” Loki said. “I loved you. I love you still. Despite everything. I've been in love with you for as long as I've known what that means. Nothing you could ever do would change that. Not even this.”

Thor's eyes were burning into his, and Loki blinked rapidly, his own eyes suddenly scratchy and raw.

“I never enchanted you. Never. That was you. You felt the same way I did. Yet you couldn't imagine feeling that way unless you could find some way to blame it on me. Fine, then, blame me—but it was no spell. It was only ever us, loving each other more than we should.”

Loki found himself squeezing Thor's face so hard his cheeks were deforming, and he let him go.

“You took so much from me,” Loki said. “Ripped it away. But Thor—” He looked at Thor sadly. Saw all the beauty, all the ugliness, all the waste. “All you ever had to do was ask. I would have given you anything—everything—if only you had asked.”

Loki stood and started untying his robe. 

“Tonight, _I'm_ going to have my way with _you_.”

Thor watched him, his face a mixture of fear and despair. The silk robe slid to the floor and Loki stepped out of it. He shivered at the kiss of cool air on his bare skin. He'd fingered himself open earlier while Thor slept, slow and patient; he'd stared at Thor while he did it, imagining in his pathetic heart that Thor would wake while he was doing it, would smile at him sweetly and offer to help, would kiss him through it.

Loki uncapped the salve he'd brought and smelled it. Floral and sweet. Thor started struggling against his bonds.

“Hush,” Loki said. “I said I was going to have my way with you, not hurt you.”

He began to make love to his brother.

He let himself kiss Thor all over, first. Not his face, but everywhere else. His arms. His neck. His chest. Belly and hips and thighs, calves and ankles. Thor shuddered beneath him.

“Can you imagine?” Loki whispered against the tender skin of Thor's inner thigh, kneading at the other one until Thor squirmed. “We might have had this.”

He slicked his hands and stroked Thor from half to full hardness. He'd never had a chance to study his cock before, and so he did. Felt the heft of it in his hand. Cupped his balls, soft and lightly furred. Slid his foreskin down to expose the head of his cock and then kissed that too. Thor's cock was as beautiful as the rest of him, and Loki hated that it had ever been used to hurt him.

“I should fuck you bloody,” he said roughly. “Make you scream until your throat breaks, though no one would be able to hear you. Lucky for you, I am a merciful god.”

He swung his leg over Thor's hips and straddled him. Thor strained against his bonds, arching his back, maybe thinking that Loki was about to make good on his threat, but Loki pushed him back down with a firm hand in the center of his chest.

“Be still,” he ordered.

Reaching between them, he took Thor's cock in his hand and lined it up with his loosened hole, and began to sink down.

He couldn't suppress his own shudder.

“Gods,” he breathed. “Who knew it could feel so good?”

Loki rode Thor for as long as he could hold out. Slowly, at first. A long slow slide, down and up. Every time Thor tried to buck up into him, Loki pulled away. He wanted be in complete control tonight. Part of him wanted to lift the spell he'd used to take Thor's voice. Wanted to hear his response to everything Loki had said and done tonight. Even now wondered if Thor might have any sweet words for him at all. Couldn't bear to hear them if they weren't sweet. So he kept Thor silent, and he filled the silence with his own imaginings.

_”I was wrong, brother. I never should have hurt you. I love you. I want to make you feel good. Please.”_

He nearly started crying just imagining it.

 _”I forgive you,”_ Loki would say. _”I love you. Always you. Only you.”_

“Will you come for me?” Loki asked Thor. He had both hands on Thor's chest now, and he was undulating his hips in a way that made Thor's cock drag across his sweet spot, his breath hitching every time it happened. Thor was panting beneath him. Loki didn't know if he untied Thor if Thor would keep fucking him or if he'd kill him with his bare hands; he didn't want to find out.

“I want you to come for me,” Loki said. He lifted his hips up higher and brought them down swiftly, and felt rather than heard the groan in Thor's chest. Loki's arms were getting wobbly, and he let himself collapse over Thor's broad chest while he fucked himself on his cock. “Come on, I know you know how.”

Thor drilled up into him and Loki laugh groaned.

“There's a good boy.”

Thor did come. Loki felt him drive up at one point and go still and tense, felt a bloom of warmth inside of him, painting his insides with Thor's seed.

He pushed himself up to look Thor in the face.

Kept looking at his face while he finally reached down and stroked his own cock, Thor's still inside of him. When he came, it was like a tiny death, a shuddering spasm where he hung suspended in bliss over his own doom. He spent in ribbons on Thor's chest and up onto the lower part of his face. Leaning down, he licked himself from his brother's jaw.

“Thank you,” he whispered. Thor was still inside of him, and Loki shifted where they were joined, wet and sticky.

Finally, he kissed Thor's mouth. Thor's lips were hard and unyielding, and Loki pulled away.

“Can't you give me this one kiss?” he asked softly.

He leaned in again, and this time Thor's lips began to give under his. Loki kissed him tenderly, throwing every ounce of love and desire and need that he'd ever felt for his brother; after a moment, Thor kissed him back. Loki felt his lips tremble against Thor's, and kissed him more fiercely.

Loki pulled back. Everything had gone to plan tonight. He'd been so controlled and calm, so sure, and suddenly he found himself shaky. Thor looked back up at him, so many emotions on his face that Loki couldn't even begin to read them all and couldn't bring himself to try.

“Thank you,” Loki said again. His face began to fall. “I'm sorry.”

He saw the question in Thor's eyes, and how it started to give way to shock.

“I'm sorry.”

Loki materialized a knife in his hand, and with a small cry of dismay, he buried it up underneath Thor's ribs. Thor writhed underneath him. Loki pulled the knife out with a sickening wet sound, and stabbed him again. He pulled it out a final time and raised his arm over his head. Everything was red—the knife, his arm, Thor, the bed, it was red, it was all red—and he brought the knife down in an arc that was also red, and buried it for the last time deep in his brother's heart.

He had one hysterical thought that maybe he should have left a note for their mother, then another that who could possibly need a note when both Princes of Asgard were found dead and coated in semen with one's cock still inside the other.

Any further thought was brought to a halt by Thor tearing free of his bonds with the last of his dying strength and wrapping his hands around Loki's throat.

Loki didn't struggle, at least not at first. Thor wasn't doing anything he hadn't planned on doing himself. It was almost poetic, in a way.

They stared into each other's eyes, dying together.

Loki's body betrayed him and began to struggle, to tear at Thor's hands, but even now he was no match for Thor's strength. His control over the spell holding Thor's voice slipped as blackness crept into the edges of his vision.

“Liar,” Thor was sobbing, over and over again.

 _No_ , Loki thought, _for once everything I said was the truth._ He couldn't breathe. His eyes hurt. His heart hurt.

The last things he saw were his brother's frantic eyes, the blood bubbling from his lips. He wanted to kiss them.

 

They were found two days later, bodies stiff and unable to be pried apart, even in death.


End file.
